PaperHurricanesAndPlanes

Death And Rebirth

Autumnal branches branch out
In a wide array of length and colors.
It looks so pretty; but it's death.
Death of a season, death of trees.
Still I cannot wait for winter to come.
For Christmas. When Christmas comes
It is the only time I am happy and loveless
Simultaneously.

Spring flowers spring up,
In a wide array of species and colors.
It looks so pretty; arboreal birth
A beautiful, bucolic mirth.
I don't know if it is real,
And I don't think so.
But I need it so badly that
I don't care.

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